Cat Breading
14 May 2012 1 Comment
in Fun, Life, Uncategorized Tags: bread, Cat, cat breading, google
Think you’ve already heard of all the ridiculous internet photo fads? Unless you’ve already heard about “cat breading,” think again.
On Saturday I was out in the boonies of Northern NJ, chilling on a lake for my friend, Kim’s “Partial Fulfillment Social,” (aka graduation party from her masters program), and our friend George says, “Courtney, have you seen the cat breading pictures on the internet?”
“Cat breading? No…what’s that?”
“People put a hole through a piece of bread and then stick their cat’s head in it and take a picture…there are thousands of pictures if you google image ‘Cat Breading.‘”
At first I didn’t believe him… how…and WHY would you put a cat’s head through a piece of bread?? George pulled out his phone and proved that people (many people) do, in fact, stick their cats’ heads through pieces of bread and take pictures.
I was excited. Because the next day I’d be going to visit my mom for Mothers’ Day and I knew I’d have access to three cats. I couldn’t wait to tell my mom and sister about this new phenomenon. T-Diddy loved it, but she wanted to do it with a hotdog bun. I’m really not sure how she thought we were going to do it with a hotdog bun. I think she just didn’t want to part with her precious loaf of honey wheat bread. But she did. The end result was fabulous. I introduce to you, Cat Breading.
Call Me Maybe
06 May 2012 4 Comments
in Entertainment, Fun, Life Tags: call me maybe, cinco de mayo, friends, hoboken
One year all the stars aligned, (and by stars, I mean craigslist responses to my roommate search), and I got teamed up with Meg and Melissa for several fabulous months of ridiculousness at 718 Adams St. Melissa and I have since moved on from the best apartment on Earth, but thankfully Meg maintains residence and has made my old bedroom her own. The three of us don’t all get together as often as we may like, but when we do it’s always a night full of giggling and inappropriateness. Cinco De Mayo was one of the lucky nights that we all found ourselves back on Adams St, dancing like fools in my old bedroom.
Meg and I spent the day learning how to use iMovie to make this gift for Melissa. If I were to ever wonder why I’m single, I can just watch this video for a quick reminder. 
. These two never let me down.
I present to you our first music video: “Call Us Maybe”
Dating at 29 & Denim Spandex
16 Apr 2012 5 Comments
in Internet Dating, Life Tags: dating, denim, hoboken, internet dating, mountain bike, NYC, spandex, wine
You know what sucks about the dating scene when you’re 29? The dating scene. Oh, and the men. The men are the worst part. I feel like I can’t do anything right. I try the internet, because all men on there are available. Available, meaning they are not married, engaged or in a serious relationship. Unless they are flat-out lying, which I suppose happens as well. Also, on the internet, it’s easier to weed past the bullshit in a shorter amount of time. Questions that may take some time to get answered while randomly meeting someone on the street, such as “Do you like women?” or “Are you employed?” are easily answered with a drop-down box and an opportunity to elaborate. Problem with dating people from the internet is that everyone thinks there’s “something wrong” with you, or you’re desperate for a relationship. A point which I’m just actually tired of arguing, so I don’t even think I’m going to get into it.
On the other hand, there’s always the option of meeting people the old-fashioned way. And meeting people the old-fashioned way when you’re 29 and live in Hoboken, is going to a bar with your single girlfriends (mostly younger, because really, who else is 29 and still single?) standing with a drink in hand, and looking around the place like it’s a freakin’ meat market. This one’s too young, that one’s too short, the other one’s muscles are too big. That one’s wearing salmon colored pants which means he must be a d-bag frat boy. I mean it’s disgusting when you think about it. Really, it’s just sick. It’s all so superficial. The frat boy d-bag in the salmon colored pants turns out to be an ex-professional snowboarder, who sells wine for a living, and the salmon pants were bought from the outlets on a whim, and being worn for the first time. He also has the charm of Casanova, bright blue eyes and a killer smile. Oh, and as an afterthought, I find out one more thing he has, halfway through date two, and that’s a girlfriend.
Which brings me back to my point. The dating scene sucks. What else sucks is that my cell phone number has now become somewhat of a free-for-all. It starts with “Can I give so-and-so your number,” and even when the answer is “No,” somehow, so-and-so finds a way to get in touch with me. I mean, the second my friend Kim found out I’m single, she gets out her Droid, pulls up a picture of some dude who is also single, and tells me I need to meet him. She hands the phone over, and there’s the guy, standing there with a mountain bike in denim colored spandex. I’m not into mountain biking, and I’m definitely not wearing spandex. But wouldn’t ya know it? I have a voicemail from denim spandex guy 2 weeks later. Not even a warning!
“KIM! You gave my number to the guy with the denim spandex?? WTF?!”
Kim: “Hahahahahahhaaa….what did he say?”
Me: “It doesn’t matter! He left a voicemail…. not even a warning? I don’t want to go out with him.”
Kim: “Just go out with him. I told him there’s no way you’ll be putting on spandex and going mountain biking with him. He wants to go out with you anyway.”
Me: “What does his face look like?”
Kim: “….. It’s a normal face.”
Me: “Wow, that sounds appealing. Does he do anything besides mountain bike?”
Kim: “No, not really. Well, he also smokes weed. And he works out a lot and eats avocados.”
Me: “Well we have zero in common besides the avocados.”
Kim: “Then tell him you both like avocados.”
I told her I’m already kinda interested in someone. I sent her a picture and she told me: “Keep looking. Unless he’s really loaded.”
;ldaskfja;ldkfja;ldksjfa;lkdfja;ldkfja;ldkfja;dlfjka;ldfkja;lkfdjdal
Seriously?! Kim tells me we need to go to Ulysses to “get some leads,” and then to L.A. if we don’t find anyone there. L.A.? Yes, Los Angeles. Oh, and we might need to go to Charleston too, because she knows a millionaire looking to settle down.
I’m really not sure where I find these people. I always end up with weirdos as friends. Weirdos with really horrible ideas…
I was hoping for a relaxing week after a marathon of one last week, but it’s quickly filling up with things like a trip to the financial district to go to Ulysses to check out men in suits with no senses of humor, a night at a Mexican restaurant in Murray Hill with girlfriends & margaritas, and a promised evening that goes to the guy who introduced me to my new cat app which I am so dearly in love with. (in love with the cat app, not the guy).
Next week on the calendar is a trip to LA, with a planned layover in Charleston. xo
Play me off, cat app…
Old Men and Fancy Chairs
10 Apr 2012 1 Comment
in Entertainment, Life, Uncategorized Tags: chairs, doctor, erections, old men, seminar
Old people amuse me. I facilitated a patient seminar tonight for work, as I do about twice a month, and I was not disappointed by the entertainment.
First of all, old people show up early. And when I say early, I don’t mean 10-15 minutes early. I mean an hour early. I learned this the evening of my first seminar when I arrived 45 minutes before the start to set up, and already had a room full of old men complaining about the fact that they thought there was going to be free food and they didn’t know where it was. Sorrrrryyyy. I failed to consider the “early bird special” mind-set of senior citizens. These days I get to the venue two hours early JUST to make sure no one arrives without being welcomed with a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee poured from a BOX (assistance necessary, old people just do not understand the concept of tipping the box to get the coffee out of the spout).
Today I arrived at the hotel, and after preparing for a bit, went up to the front desk to ask for the internet code. An old men yells at me- “I need a wheelchair!” His grandson, standing next to me in line, about my age ,who he had already sent to get a wheelchair, says,
“Grandpa, she doesn’t work here. I’m taking care of it.”
“Oh, well she has a TAG on.”
I guess it was the skirt suit and company name badge that threw him off. Understandable, I suppose. He then gets up, hobbles over and says, “Well… you’re attractive enough to work here.” {wink}
“Grandpa!” Grandson is now thoroughly embarrassed.
“I was just saying…”
I make my way back to the conference room where an elderly man and his wife are patiently waiting for the seminar to begin. It’s 5:26pm. The man says to his wife, “What time does this thing start? 5:00??”
“No, 6:00.”
“Oh.”
I asked them how their day is going. Well I asked them about three times before they heard me. “WHAT?! I CAN’T HEAR!”
“HOW ARE YOU DOING TODAY?”
Man: “Oh… we are doing well. These are really nice chairs. Reeeaaaalllyyy nice chairs. Do you think we can borrow them? Maybe we can borrow them for Christmas.”
Wife: “For ANY holiday, Joe! Not just Christmas!”
The man starts caressing the chair in the row in front of him.
I mean, I really didn’t think there was anything special about the chairs. Maybe I’m missing something.
And when it comes to question time after the doctor is finished presenting the slides, there’s ALWAYS that one. Always the ONE old geezer who just HAS to ask if he’ll still be able to have an erection after the procedure. There’s also the one who always asks HOW LONG it will be until he can have sex again after the procedure. You know, just to top the last guy.
I’m sad to see them leave after a good couple of hours of entertainment, but even on their way out, as they stuff cookies in their pockets for later and throw packets of sugar in their wives’ purses, they keep me smiling. Cherish the old folks in your lives. They won’t be around forever. <3
Beach Booty Central
04 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Entertainment, Life Tags: butt, exercises, ghetto booty, squats
I’m often conflicted about my booty. It’s always been rather… ghetto, let’s say. I blame my Mediterranean parents. I remember even in junior high I was tying sweaters around my waste to try to camouflage the tush. Nowadays with the whole JLo and Kardahian BS, I’ve been able to accept it a bit more, even use it in my favor in professional situations (KIDDING…kidding…)
BUT (pun intended), as I exercise in hopes of my butt muscles EATING the fat while on the stairmaster or doing leg presses, I wonder if actually the muscle will build ON TOP of the fat (or underneath, yes I did take anatomy), in turn, creating a larger dump cake.
I came across this website which outlines the 22 best exercises for a perfect butt. Not too big, not too small, not too “droopy,” as they say. I’ve found it to be quite helpful, so figured I’d share.
Squat away, bitches!
Happy Hump Day!
Far Away…
03 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Life Tags: far away, Ingrid Michaelson, island, lobsterman
Thought for the day, via Ingrid Michaelson. I think she’s pretty rad and so is this song. An island far away would be the perfect place to be 
Happy Tuesday!
Random Notes from Monday
02 Apr 2012 4 Comments
in Entertainment, Fun, Life, Uncategorized Tags: dunkin donuts, fire, gym, japan, photos, random, uganda
Noteworthy things I saw today:
1. Two separate car fires on the turnpike, one consisting of three tractor trailers in blazing flames. I was seconds away from getting out of the car to help, before realizing I didn’t have any firefighting training… and if I stopped, I’d probably cause another accident.
2. A man READING A NOVEL while driving. Something like this may have been what caused the accidents and car fires. Although, I did stoop so low as to pulling out my phone and taking a picture of the man reading the novel…. as well as of the tractor-trailers (post-fire). So I’m probably just as guilty. I hope there aren’t any cops reading this.
3. A couple, HOLDING HANDS while walking around the track IN THE GYM. Really? If you want to go for a romantic stroll, maybe walk around the block a few times? No one needs you taking up two lanes of the narrow track to gaze into each others eyes while leisurely circling the gym equipment.
4. A man on the elliptical GRUNTING while watching the TV. At first I thought it was because he was watching a soccer game, and reacting to the plays. Then the TV changed to golf, and the grunting continued. I was scared.
5. A map of the world showing that Uganda and Japan are not within driving distance of each other.
6. The scale, showing the weekend caused three pounds of weight gain. Oops. Scales should disappear on Mondays.
7. The employee at Dunkin Donuts who asked for my Facebook name last week. He was not smiling. I’ve never witnessed this before. I think he might have actually be scowling.
8. The Hunger Games book, still sitting on my nightstand, lonely and only partly read. This book reminds me of “Eat, Pray, Love.” Everyone and their mother was obsessed with it, and I couldn’t get past the first chapter. What is wrong with me?
9. A pick up line that consisted of “I need your help. I fell and hit my head when I saw you, so I need your name, phone number, and a time to meet for insurance purposes.” Really? Good one. Not sure why I’m a magnet for weirdos.
10. My shower. Wait, no, I haven’t seen my shower in two days. I should probably go check it out.
Happy Monday!
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The Story of Prince Harry
29 Mar 2012 5 Comments
in Fun, Life, Uncategorized Tags: dog, goldendoodle, prince harry, st pattys day
Every St. Patty’s day T-Diddy makes corned beef and cabbage. Nevermind she’s 100% Italian, that stuff is GOOD. I was really sad that I missed it this year, so I told her if she made it again the following weekend, I would come home. She happily agreed. I called Dad and told him I’d be home on Saturday. He asked why (as if there must be some specific reason), and I told him because I had asked mom to make corned beef and cabbage.
Dad: ”NO… DON’T DO THAT!”
Me: ”Why not?”
Dad: ”She made that crap last week. It was like mush. She served it, and I asked where the cabbage was. She said ‘Oh, maybe I forgot it in the refrigerator.’ She checked the fridge, then said ‘No, it’s not there. It must be on the bottom of your plate somewhere.’”
Me: ”HA! She did mention you didn’t really like it.”
Dad: ”Not only did she give it to me that night, but she saved that shit for leftovers all week-long. Every night I came home she pulled it out of the refrigerator and tried to give it to me for dinner… So I said let’s just go out. She knew what she was doing too. She giggled every time she tried to give it to me, because she knew I’d say we’re going out.”
Anyway, T-Diddy did make the corned beef and cabbage, and she must have done a much better job the second time around. It was worth the trip. I also got to spend some quality time with her while I was home. We went out to lunch at her favorite place, then went shopping for scrubs, where she was mad at me for not buying anything, because to her, a shopping trip is not successful if you don’t buy anything (they didn’t have my SIZE!… she was trying to get me to buy mismatched ones, and pants that weren’t scrub bottoms because, and I quote: ”Who CARES if they’re not scrub bottoms? What’re the doctors going to say (now comes the whiney voice, squinted eyes and limp flailing wrists): ’ooooo Courtney wasn’t wearing SCRUB bottoms today…they were just REGULAR bottoms’).”
So we left the scrub store and she said “What should we do now? I don’t want to go home yet.” I suggested…hmmm… “Do you know of any puppy stores?” YEP. “Let’s just go look.”
Flash forward an hour later, I’m walking out of the store called “PUPPIES” dragging a 10 week old Goldendoodle who had never been walked on a leash before, so yes, I actually was DRAGGING him. The pet store owner smelled suckers a mile away as we were cooing over every puppy in there. When I took “Harry” (as he was later named) out of the cage to play with him, I fell in love. I said
“Mom, do you think we could be best friends?”
She said, “Yes, he’s really cute. I think you’d get along really well. And you could probably pick up a lot of cute guys.”
The owner rang me up pretty damn fast… not wanting me to change my mind… BUT I did ask if I could have a trial period. He told me it was called a “play date-” I could take the dog home for 24 hours and see if it worked out, and then bring him back if I wanted to, for a full refund. Perfect. Now I could sleep on it, while sleeping with the puppy. Awww…. so cute.
We took Prince Harry to visit dad at work. I walked in holding him and Dad goes, “What is that? No… no you didn’t get a dog. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH A DOG??” Ummmm…. LOVE it! He says “You two really can’t be trusted shopping together.” Yes, we know.
Prince Harry came home where Chase and Britt were visiting for the weekend as well. Britt fell in love (obvi) and Chase, much like Dad in many ways said “Are you serious??? You can’t have a DOG!” Harry spent the evening mostly outside with me, trying to get him to pee. Each time after about a half hour I’d give up thinking he didn’t have to go, bring him in, and there he’d g0- right on the carpet. Pee pee…. outside, 40 minutes-nothing…back inside, carpet– poo poo. Back outside 30 minutes- nothing…. inside, another poo poo. I felt bad for laughing. It was funny. Maybe because it wasn’t my house.
Bedtime came and whimper whimper whimper, howl howl howl. Angel, my parents’ big black dog was intrigued… but Angel EATS little dogs, so it was a challenge to keep them away from each other. 5:30 am Harry was not shutting up. I went downstairs to get him from the crate (which everyone said he was NOT supposed to pee in), and it was soaked with pee. I was like OK DOG lets go outside. So here I am, not fully prepared, or packed to be walking a dog, in my knee high leather boots, hot pink paisley pajama bottoms, and my mom’s faux fur hooded coat walking the damn puppy down the street at 5:30 am, in the cold RAIN. Scratch that, now we’ll run. We will run until you can run no more, because I want to go home and go to SLEEP. The dog did not poo or pee outside. I thought because it had already gone in the cage. No…. as soon as we got inside…. psssss….plop….plop….pssssss….. alps;dghaoiguhads;lfjal;sdkfja;lsdkfgjafl;. Then the big dog wanted to go out. UGH! FINE!!!!! Back out, a nice little jog in my clickity click knee high boots down the street with an 80 pound dog dragging me the whole way. I’m glad it was still pretty dark out, because I think I would have been arrested and taken to the loony bin if anyone had seen this.
I went back to sleep. So did Harry. So did Angel. I woke up and still didn’t know what to do with the puppy. I called people I know with dogs, visited another Goldendoodle owner, took Harry to my aunt and uncles who know what to do with dogs. All the feedback I got was, “A puppy is A LOT of work.” Not to mention, the puppy came from a pet store, had kennel cough, and had some sort of allergy. I was back and forth all day. I posted on FB for advice, and got a TON of great puppy training advice… THANK YOU FRIENDS!!!! But in the end, the suggestion I took was “If you’re not 100% sure about raising a puppy, and having a dog, you probably shouldn’t keep him.” And out of all fairness to the cute little puppy, I felt he should have a home with someone who could be there for him more. Maybe a home that had more than one person to take care of him.
I brought Prince Harry back. It was sad. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. When I updated friends, I got a lot of “Good decision” responses. Hmmm should I be offended by that? I’m sure someday I will be a good puppy mommy. I just don’t think it will be today. Or maybe a trained dog would be easier. A third floor walk-up is not the best situation for training. Although, I’d have pretty good calf muscles after a few months of that.
Yes, I did feel like a horrible person buying a puppy and giving it back. So you can save that drama for yo momma! I already know I’m an impulsive idiot! In close, I plan on thinking about things before doing them from now on. (errrr…. I’ll try).
I’ll miss you, Harry.
The Treadmill Hopper
27 Mar 2012 4 Comments
in Entertainment, Fun, Life, Uncategorized Tags: crazy lady, funny, gym, hopping, Treadmill
I know it’s really mean to laugh at people while they are working out. I also know it’s even meaner to take videos of people while they work out. Honestly though, I just could NOT resist. The first time I saw this woman, I let it go. I thought maybe she was on drugs… or that she had too much caffeine that morning. The second time, I also let it go. I told myself I shouldn’t judge. Maybe she was just listening to a really good song. I mean we all do it, right? A really good song comes on and you start dancing a little bit? But I was kinda concerned that she might fall and come flying towards me. Today, I thought… if I were to describe this to someone, they wouldn’t understand. So yeah, I took out my iPhone and took a little video. This is just a small little blip of what she does every day. This goes on for about 45 minutes. Enjoy.
The Bus Driver’s Booty
23 Mar 2012 2 Comments
in Life Tags: bus, butt, driver, school bus
I had the same bus driver for most of my elementary school years. She was the sweetest woman. I only saw her when she was sitting in the driver’s seat of the bus. That was the only way I knew her. One day, in about second grade, for some reason I saw her standing upright, outside of the school bus. I couldn’t stop staring. It was so strange to see her out of her element. I noticed that her butt was about as wide as I was tall. I had never seen her butt before. I was very disturbed. I never knew my bus driver looked like this standing up. I asked my mom why her butt was so big. She said, “Well, bus drivers sit on a bus all day. That’s what happens when you sit down too much.”
I was terrified that would happen to me if I sat down for too long. My butt would smush itself into a wide flat box. I tried my hardest not to sit down for at least three days. I don’t think T-Diddy had any idea how traumatized I was.
To this day, I find myself nervous sometimes while I’m taking long trips in the car. Since my job pretty much requires me to sit in a driver’s seat for the majority of the day, I find myself subconsciously clinching my cheeks every once in a while… trying my best to keep my butt from flattening out.
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